


Roadrat: The Fire that Covered the World

by Skepsiss



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), junkrat - Fandom, roadhog - Fandom, roadrat - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fire, Fluff and Angst, Gay Love, Kisses, M/M, Partnership, Sympathy, roadrat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skepsiss/pseuds/Skepsiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Cleaned up and finished. Just some angst, cause I was having a hard time thinking about something that would make ‘Rat or ‘Hog cry. It struck me as like… they forget to feel that sometimes, so when it comes out it’s a surprise to both of them. Nothing more important then your home, even if you are nomadic.)<br/>"That fire sparking and licking over the dry treetops, various animals running for safety as it spread. Junkrat could tell though, he could see where the film was clipped and how the camera pan would stop just before it got to a Junker town. He knew where they were, he knew where every dingy bar and every standalone shake was in that damn country. But no one cared. <br/>Usually this would put a fire in his guts, set him off and get ‘Rat reeling. Hell, even ‘Hog got in on anything that affected their home, but… suddenly they were both drained. They didn’t have the energy to be mad, to run out there to the Outback and shout at the suits and the Omnics and demand change—make change. Blow up change. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roadrat: The Fire that Covered the World

**Author's Note:**

> Original story by me, originally posted on tumblr.

The news cast was showing the images. Was showing the plumes of smoke and eaten wasteland—the scorching, the burn, the acid and the toxins rising. They weren’t there—thank god they weren’t there. But it felt like they should have been. They were meant to be in the Outback; they were built to be in Australia. But no. They were in a run-down apartment in London; some dingy shit hole they had bribed out of someone. But there it was: a fire so high and so wide that it could be the ocean.

Usually this would light some kind of gleeful reaction from Junkrat, but he sat quietly, eyes fixed on the screen as he watched his home land go up in flames. Sydney was safe, Melbourne was safe—all the big people places were safe. It was the Outback that was burning—no reports of any deaths yet, thankfully the fire is ravaging and area unoccupied by Omnics or People—the news lady was saying. But hell, they didn’t count Junkers as people. They were all going up in flames. 

Junkrat’s eyes reflected the screen, those yellow sparks covered now in the blue-hue of a shitty TV and the grainy flames spreading across the ground. Roadhog wasn’t much better, he was sitting in the back of the room, tucked into a too small armchair as he stared past ‘Rat’s head and at the news broadcast. It was show casing their lives—the room as cold as gasoline. 

The Outback was burning. 

 

They just kept showing the same image, over and over again. That fire sparking and licking over the dry treetops, various animals running for safety as it spread. Junkrat could tell though, he could see where the film was clipped and how the camera pan would stop just before it got to a Junker town. He knew where they were, he knew where every dingy bar and every standalone shake was in that damn country. But no one cared.  
Usually this would put a fire in his guts, set him off and get ‘Rat reeling. Hell, even ‘Hog got in on anything that affected their home, but… suddenly they were both drained. They didn’t have the energy to be mad, to run out there to the Outback and shout at the suits and the Omnics and demand change—make change. Blow up change.  
But they were both so tired; older then they wanted to admit and not just in age. And how did you fight a fire? They didn’t even know how it started. Hell, it could have been natural. Australia was dry, it was vast and open and perfect for the burning. How did you fight that? How did you get mad about that? It was different from the factory exploding. Different from ‘Hog being turned out of his home by the government and those damn bots; different from ‘Rat loosing an arm; different from radiation poisoning and a business man that was screwing you over just to see you bent. 

Eventually ‘Hog got up and switched off the TV—‘Rat too close to the screen to even see him coming. He blinked a few times with the absence of light and the two of them hovered in silence. Now what? That image was drilled into their brains; printed like a black and white image in the red room. They knew it was there, and there was no going back to it now. 

Jamie opened his mouth to speak, to say some kind of quip that would get them going again. Well isn’t this shit? Good thing we’re outta there. Didn’t like the bars in that area anyway. But nothing came.  
Jamie sat with his mouth slightly unhinged and Roadhog hovering with his hand over the dial. How did you fight something like this?

‘Rat stood slowly, brushed off the back of his shorts, and stretching out his back. The best he could do was act normal, to be that firecracker they both needed. But still, no words came.  
Ignore it, just ignore it. Nothing you can do.  
But it felt unnatural to ask for dinner, or ask if ‘Hog wanted to go out. Shower. Sing. Count the loot. It all seemed so taboo to bring up right now.  
So ‘Rat looked at his bodyguard, and the guard huffed something small before clapping a hand on the younger’s shoulder. Jamie patted it gently and moved away; drifting over to their make-shift table of old crates and mildewy pillows. He plunked down and started to write; rolling out those blue scrolls that embodied every plan and every heist and just started to write. He’d make something, he’d build it and focus on it for once and not let his mind wander. ‘Rat was skilled at his tunnel vision when it came to plans. 

He sat with his shoulders hunched, back to the TV as he scribbled down notes and drawing schematics. But he kept stopping. He kept writing a word that reminded him of home, or brought back the images of that fire and he’d have to stop and think and remember. Remembering was the most dangerous part of all of this. Nothing good came out of memories. 

“Ya think Copper Pub is gone?” Junkrat asked out of now where, his words lulling in the room for some time. It felt heavy, and he could compare it to a smoggy day in South Australia. It was just hard to breath.  
‘Hog didn’t reply, and it wasn’t his usually silence that Jamie could dissect; it was just silence. Plain old rotten silence.  
“Ya know, I ‘ad my first slugger there when I was fourteen,” ‘Rat reminisced, tapping the pencil against his knuckles. The tip tip tipping filling the room as it bounced against the wooden crate.  
“’Ad both me legs at the time too, ya know. Canna remember Pete who use to man the counter. Man he was a good bartender; dunno if you ever met the guy. Brought you were once, ‘member that? Pete was strung up and dead though. Long time ago…” Jamie chattered on, his words slow and drowsy as he stared at a crack in the wall. He felt hallow, like the words were spilling out of him but they didn’t belong to him at all. These memories bouncing around in his head that he had never given enough time or enough thought to before.  
It all happened so routinely in the Outback—in Junker towns. You lost a limb, or got stabbed, or maybe you woke up without a kidney one day. The radiation, the death, the poisoned food and robots sticking out of the ground was just normal. You couldn’t get away from it, and it all became background noise. You’d see your mate after a month or two and they’d just have one less eye or one less foot and that was fine. You’d tell the story, joke, talk about the good times and move onto more. It was all good times… it was all good until you remembered that it wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t always like that. 

“I liked that shit-hole,” Jamie continued, back straight as he stared ahead, the word still tumbling out of him. “My mum use to take me there when I was a kid too, ‘ave me sit in the back with the other kids and we’d play games. Good lady…” ‘Rat hadn’t thought about his mom for a long time. Hadn’t tried to picture her matted blonde hair and sharp, stern eyes. He didn’t want to picture her, he didn’t want to think about her dead and what her eyes looked like then.  
“’Ad to hitchhike out there later on though; lost the car… roads were good though. Left that town when I was fifteen… ‘member stuffing that truck full of junk and hauling outta there.” 

A hand was on his shoulder suddenly, a firm but gentle grip that seemed to weight his body down and shut his mouth. Junkrat turned, and looked at Roadhog beside him, unable to make out his expression from behind his mask. But… something was odd about this affection; ‘Hog was blurry and ‘Rat slowly reached up to his own face with shaking hands to find tears streaming there. He didn’t remember starting to cry, and they wouldn’t stop now either. They were just streaming down his cheeks, running and dripping onto his blueprints as if from here the water would put out the fires in the Outback. 

“Shit–…” Junkrat mumbled, smiling and wiping the back of his hand across his cheeks. The tears didn’t stop though, and the more he tried to push them back the heavier his breathing got and the thicker the tears seemed to become.  
“Shit—“ Jamie said again, his voice starting to shake as he desperately wiped at his face, rubbed his palms into his eyes and tried to push back those tears. “Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit!” He was bawling now, mouth turned into a grotesque frown, open, tears flowing down his cheeks and making clean lines across his sooty flesh. 

‘Hog was crouching beside him now; hand still firm on his shoulder as ‘Rat bubbled on and on. Roadhog didn’t seem to hesitate to pull Jamie into his chest, holding him against his body as ‘Rat sobbed into him, the feeling overwhelming there. He had forgotten about this, he had forgotten what it felt like to cry like this.  
It wasn’t long before ‘Rat was clinging to the older man, face stuffed in his neck as he rambled about their home.  
“My family is all dead, ya know? But it… it feels like this is- this is…” making it all real again. Jamie couldn’t remember crying when his mother died, feeling alone when his father left, or even feeling anything when his home town was destroyed. It all just happened, in a stream of emotions that seemed to fiddle out and die like a faulty starter-line. There was no pop, no bang, nothing to hit him in the gut and make him really think about the shit going on. Hell, he couldn’t even remember being upset about losing his leg.  
But it was all here now; he could feel all of that pain, and all of that loss just boiling over inside of him. And he wasn’t mad; he didn’t want revenge like he did so often when something went wrong. No… he was just sad. He was just filled with all of these emotions that he had compartmentalized for years without knowing it. 

“Asa lotta people probably dyin’, you know? And no one cares—no one knows—“ Jamie was babbling again, but he was cut off when ‘Hog pulled him upright, grabbing his face in his hands.  
“Stop talking,” the elder demanded the words soft from behind the mask though and they made Jamie’s eyes cease for a second. He was feeling it too then. Roadhog was feeling it just the same as he was.  
‘Rat nodded, pathetically, as he started to cry again, weak little hands reaching up to pull away the other’s mask. He needed to know, he needed to see ‘Hog to be sure that they were in this together.  
He pulled off the mask and it toppled to the ground, ‘Hog’s face shiny with damp tears as he stared at Junkrat before him. He wasn’t crying, not anymore, but he had been and the water was fresh on his plump cheeks. The look of it… the idea of it made Jamie’s chest clench. Made him fall forwards and grabs the elder by the face so they could kiss. A caste thing, hard and wet and filled with tears. ‘Rat still huffing for breath from his crying, having to stop to breath and let out those gross noises as he kissed the other. And ‘Hog kissed him. He moved gently like a ghost as he no doubt brought those horrible memories to the surface of his own mind. 

They stopped eventually. They stopped and rested their foreheads together and sucked up their crying. Two Junkers that had seen death, and almost died themselves countless times just crying over the loss of the Outback. The loss of their homes once again. Letting themselves remember it for once… because it was all going to be tied up again tomorrow. ‘Hog would put on that mask, and Junkrat would bubble over with that laugh and they’d be at it again. Just running, and living, and rolling along that road to god knows where. They could be the last Junkers in the world for all they knew. But they were together in it. And the loss and the death, and the fire that seemed to cover this world with the regrets of people and Omnics hadn’t burned them alive just yet. They’d be fine as long as they had each other, and there was really no point in crying about it every day.


End file.
